Welcome to Boxer & Rice

"Nande?! You what?" The teacup Gohan was holding dropped abruptly, clattering the last three inches to the table as the hot liquid within sloshed over the brim. Hastily pushing up his glasses, the older Son grabbed a hand towel from the back of one chair, mopping it reflexively though his wide, dumbstruck eyes never left the smirking face of his younger brother.

"You heard me, 'niichan." Goten lifted the mug as the taller demi-Saiyan shook his head disbelievingly. Sniffing it--you could never really tell when it came to his Oniichan, herbal this and organic that--he deemed it worthy of his Saiyan tastebuds and opted a swallow. Not bad…

"B-but…" Stuttering, always a bad sign. Sighing softly, Goten parked his lighter frame in one of his brother's designer kitchen chairs.

"But…" he encouraged with a loose hand gesture. Collecting himself marginally, Gohan managed to get his leftover sentiment out of the dusty storage space dubbed his brain.

"He's twice--no, three times your age, Goten!"

"I passed math, Oniichan…" Obviously dazed, waiting for the sound of the alarm to strike through this total unreality, the unmade scholar stood staring for the moment his brother would sprout four eyes and eight heads and prove to him nice and easy that this was all a nightmare.

"Sit down, Gohan." Like a dog, the obedient Son sat across from his sibling. Grinning, the younger took another sip of his tea. "Good Son." He gave his genius brother the allotted five seconds it took to understand his insult, and an additional six as he listened to the berating for it.

"Niichan." Gohan stopped mid-lecture, pausing as though caught jerking off in the hall closet, the red blush as neatly placed as if painted by an expert hand. "On topic, please…"

Well that shut him up.

"Ano…" The taller demi-Saiyan coughed, glancing sideways as the cherry on his nose blossomed. Chuckling maniacally, Goten set down his cup and leaned forward in his chair.

"You want to know if he was any good." The light laughter lengthened the more his brother's embarrassment deepened until it enveloped the kitchen and Gohan's guilty features were hidden behind both hands. Shaking his head as the amusement died down to a more controllable level, the smaller sibling wiped aside a tear, smiling broadly as his replacement father peaked one dark eye through his veil of fingers. Gathering his courage by the balls and deciding that curiosity was better sated than stagnated, Son Gohan took the plunge.


"So how was he?" Vegeta arched an ebony brow as his younger daughter sat herself rather forcefully down next to him, the epitome of teenage girl and pop idolatry.

Ignoring her, the Saiyan prince did not deter from his regularly scheduled channel surfing, but clicked the remote again to emphasize his disinterest.

"Papa. Don't make me whine." The threat went unnoticed while she adjusted her position on the couch. "You know I'll do it. I'll raise a hell that'll put even Bulma-basan to shame."

"Do not threaten me, brat."

Shaking her head, Vegeta's youngest introduced her face more firmly into the line of her father's vision. "I'm not Brat. She left a little while ago to go to some meeting or something with Bulma-basan." Resting her hands on her father's knees, Mizu inserted herself into his lap, wrapping both arms adoringly around his neck. "So…" The Saiyan tilted her pigtailed head. "Was Goten-kun any good?"

Irritated by her audacity, but wound entirely too tight around her little finger, the Ouji sighed, reclining back against the couch and finally meeting her insatiable obsidian eyes.

"Hai." Arching a brow, he flicked a glance as she started to play with the short hairs on his nape, a dreamy, suitably girlish look seducing her preteen elfin features.

"Sugei…" Bright, childlike eyes that reminded him painfully of her father widened at his response. "You actually admitted it! He musta been fantastic!"

Rolling his eyes, the prince flopped his head back against her arms with a deflated huff.


"Hai…he was…incredible, 'niichan. I mean…" Shaking back the black of his bangs, Goten conquered even more of the table with the upper half of his body, his enrapt brother meeting him halfway as they conversed in hushed tones.

"He let me fuck him, Gohan." The named Son added another shade to that which he was sporting. "And his dick was this big," exaggerating the size with both hands, the younger demi-Saiyan almost lost his balance, teetering and pulling his legs beneath him on the chair.

"And…" shaking his head as human words failed him completely, Goten could only convey his sentiment in a series of half sounds and gestures that a mesmerized Gohan understood without expansion, nodding every second or so to show that he comprehended every single nonsensical utterance.

"It was great, 'niichan. I mean…when I asked him out to dinner, I never thought he'd actually say yes, you know?" Sitting back on his heels, Goten cupped his mug in the broken circle of his hands.

"Well…" Gohan likewise relaxed, sipping more sophisticatedly from his tea, "you have had a crush on his since you were twelve, Goten."

"Well, yeah, and Bra-chan's got a crush on that teen actress--"

"Which one?"

"You know…the one that does all those commercials." Goten struck a pose. "'Brushing with Everwhite makes your teeth clean for when it counts the most' and there's that silhouette of two people like kissing or something…"

"Oh, yeah."

"Anyway…what I mean is, she's never gonna get her." Eyes widening considerably with his giddy smile, Goten bit his lip excitedly. "I just had sex with mine!"

"I…I mean…sugei, Goten…" Running a hand through his well groomed Saiyan hair Gohan knit his brow, hesitant to bring his brother down from this incredible high.

"Nani…?" Goten ceased his celebratory caterwauling at the older man's sudden consternation. "Nan desu ka?"

"Well…" the taller demi-Saiyan licked his lips apprehensively. "Well, what about Otousan, Goten?"


"Does that mean you're over him?" Cracking a tired black eye, the Saiyan no Ouji visually appraised his daughter. Only twelve, yet so much older than that. Older than his other daughter though Bra surpassed her half sibling by two years. It continued to shock Vegeta that something so smart and beautiful could have come from him.

…And the baka.

"And don't even say who, Papa. You know who I'm talking about." Sighing heavily, the prince pushed himself into a straight sitting position, unsettling the bundle on his lap until she steadied her weight over his knees.

"I was never hung up on that asshole." He physically repressed the need to cross his arms over his chest.

"Don't even get defensive, Papa…" A soft, creamy cheek nuzzled affectionately against his own, small, slender fingers soothingly stroking his hair.

"I am not--"

"Yes you are," Mizu matter of factly stated, sitting up and trailing her hands down to plant them on his shoulders. "You always get this way when I bring up Otousan."

"Tch." Vegeta spit to the side in disgust at the sound of a word he hated to hear come from lips so lovely. It was tainting. It was…true…

"…I mean Kakarotto-san…"

"He is your father, girl, call him whatever the hell you want."

"Then I'll call him a pain in your ass."

"That was the problem…"

Wrinkling her nose, the girl stuck out the tip of her tongue. "Like it's not bad enough Oneechan and I had to listen to the two of you go at it last night...."

Vegeta snapped at her mouth, smirking as she squealed and fell backward, saved from the fall only by the cradle of his arms against her back.

"You both should have stayed at the onna's like I told you to. I did not bring him back here to be accosted by you monkeys."

Giggling, the Saiyan wrapped her hands around his forearms and dangled like his accusation. "No…you brought him back here to fuck, Papa."

"Hai…I did not suffer the humiliation of being seen with him in public while he ate to bring him back to a house full of brats."

"Oh, come on, Papa," Scoffing at his over dramatization of the situation, Mizu rolled her eyes, blinking at the inversion of their living room, head tilting out of habit to righten the picture on the television. "You liked dinner. Admit it. He took you out for Chinese, your favourite, wooed you, spoke Italian poetry in your ear and then swept you off your feet--"

The deadpan stare lasted a fleeting minute before the sable eyes narrowed and the younger Saiyan was flipped upright. "You watch too much television."

Mizu fought the forced vertigo, swaying in his lap while she blinked her father back into focus. "And you…don't watch enough…"


"We watched cartoons, 'niichan. I took him out to eat, we went back to his place…"

"And you watched cartoons." Gohan blinked. Vegeta was more complex than that. The Saiyan no Ouji didn't do normal things like watch cartoons and date. He was enigmatic, mysterious, egotistical…he wasn't this pseudo fun-loving cartoon-watching Papa type his brother was describing from across the table.

"I tell ya, Oniichan, fatherhood's really changed him. I remember when Trunks-kun and I were kids he was real hard to get close to, talk to…you know, do more than spar with." Goten picked at the brownies his sibling had placed in the center of the table moments ago. "I guess having a chibi of his own really loosened him up or something."

"I guess a cesarean will do that to a person," the older Son remarked absently, still slightly unsettled by the whole scenario.

It was quiet as the younger demi-Saiyan became subtly somber.

"Yeah…Bulma-san said he was pretty scared when he started going into labour--she said she'd never seen him so vulnerable." Looking up through a dark veil of Saiyan signature, Goten shrugged uncertainly. "I think that's when he changed the most, you know? When he and Otousan first started…dating?" He made a face, tasting a word that didn't quite create the flavour he was going for. "He wasn't like that. He was still the same old pissy Ouji-san I grew up with. It was after Mizu-chan was born that he mellowed out. I'd never seen him so…passive…"

"I remember Otousan came to me after he and Vegeta-san got together," Gohan broke off a corner of chocolate and munched it habitually. Swallowing, he continued, "He was really excited about the whole affair--I think he genuinely wanted to start over right. As much as I hate to say it he and Okaasan never quite…"

"Coexisted without tragedy?" Goten waved the unspoken reprimand away. "Anyway, you were saying…"

"They never really connected. He seemed to find something in Vegeta-san that Okaasan lacked--"

"Yeah, it's called a dick, 'niichan." The taller half-breed paled, blushed, and coughed, choking on the chocolate as he reached blindly for his tea. Chuckling, Goten leaned over the table to smack him soundly on the back.

"That's…not what I meant, Goten!" Snickering, the slighter Son sat back down.

"It never is…" another brownie chunk was sacrificed to his mouth and he spoke through the chewy chips, "you were talking about the incompatibility of our parents."

Gohan nodded as he drank the last bitter swallow, long gone cold.

"Vegeta-san made him happy." He glared. "And not just in bed. They hit it off. It seemed a blessing after, you know…thirty years of strife--"

"Strife? Who uses that word? Strife?" Squinting incredulously Goten sat sideways in his chair, draping one arm over the back. "You could have said trouble or differences, or even--"

"Do you mind? Do you have your degree in literature? I don't think so!"

"Well you don't have to be so testy about it--"

"I'm not being testy! I'm trying to talk!"

"Papa…? Are you ok…?"


"Hn. I am perfectly fine, girl. Stop asking so many damn questions."

"I'm twelve. It's my job to be curious."

"Then find another one." Vegeta glared over his shoulder as he placed the pot on the stove to boil. Mizu perched on the counter at his right, handing him the proper utensils as he required them.

"I can't. 'S not that easy, you know, being twelve and Saiyan. And you put prince on top of that and wham I've already got the complex from hell."

Giving the girl his back, the Saiyan no Ouji removed the meat from its package, dropping it on the preheated frying pan to sizzle and spit angrily.

"You have my sympathies. I am completely unaware of the responsibilities placed upon the prince of his people. I have no idea what it's like to be Saiyan. I have never experienced puberty and the relationship I had with my parents was fucking perfect. Allow me to reserve all the pity I have exclusively for you, brat."

Arching a brow, she pulled her legs to her chest.

"You weren't a girl."

The Ouji paused as the meat thawed and smoked, blinking back the involuntary tears caused by it.

"Hn. Spatula."

Searching noisily through the drawer directly beneath her, tail curled firmly around the handle of a cupboard to keep from falling, the Saiyan retrieved the item requested…

…And held it just out of reach.

"Answer my question first, Papa."

Narrowing obsidian, the prince huffed, twining both arms over his chest. "I told you I was fine."

Crouched like a pouncing cat, she grinned. "Not that one. The one I asked you earlier that you conveniently forgot to address. You know…" the malicious look lengthened, "the one about Goten-kun being good in bed…"

Growling softly, the Saiyan no Ouji decided that enough was truly enough when it came to her pestering.

"Fine. He has soft hands, a tight ass and a great cock." One brow lifted. "Satisfied?"

"Hai." Mizu nodded sharply and handed him the ransomed tool. Vegeta snatched it, to her immense delight, immensely annoyed. "Arigato." Brushing back a lock of spiked black, the lithe sprite hugged her knees and rocked gently back and forth. After approximately five minutes of light cursing from her paternal counterpart, she decided her father had had enough time to recover from his verbal weakness.

"So…is that the only reason you like him?" The sincerity contained made the older Saiyan stop his seasoned massacre of the main course.

"Iie…" The low tone was almost lost to the heated hiss of their meal. Twisting the cap back onto the marjoram, Vegeta replaced it in the cupboard above his head.

"He makes me laugh."


"You made him laugh? How in the hell…?" Chuckling at his brother's mild swearing, Goten shrugged smugly, choosing to remain slightly enigmatic as to how exactly in hell he had managed to make the master of monotone laugh.

His cool exterior lasted all of five seconds before his excited nature took him by the horns and shook him around a little bit.

"Well, we were watching cartoons, like I mentioned earlier--Pokemon, actually…"

"Is that the one with the cards that come to life and terrorize people?" Accepting the dripping dish his brother handed him, the younger Son shook his head and began to towel it dry.

"No…that's Card Captor Sakura, 'niichan." Gohan rolled his eyes as he braced both hands against the sink.

"Well excuse me for not being up to standard on today's popular animation."

"A teenage daughter and an adolescent sister, and you don't know what's hot…that's sad, Oniichan."

"Well I sure as hell know what's hot when she writes up her Christmas list every year," the taller Son gestured toward the door his daughter had staggered through a few minutes before, only content to leave with a sandwich thicker than her fist and a bottle of refrigerated pop.

Laughing quietly, the smaller half-breed shook the excess water from his previous tea cup, balling his cloth covered fist and screw drying the inside.

"Like I was saying, we're watching Pokemon--apparently Mizu-chan's really into the whole thing, and I look over and he's naming the damn things in the opening credits!" Goten ceased his motion to look his brother directly in the eye, to drive home the pure absurdity of the entire situation. "It was the most bizarre thing I'd ever seen, Gohan. The person I'd been taught to fear more than Majin's chillin' on the couch next to me reciting the names of these cute fucking pocket monsters in the most monotone voice imaginable." Opening the cupboard, Goten deposited the glass, reaching into the rack to dry another.

"I musta had this really effed up look on my face because he looked me straight in the eye and said if I had children Mizu's age I'd be able to follow their damn shows too." Returning his brother's disbelieving smile, Goten just shook his head again.

"I know, I know…but I'm telling ya, niichan, Vegeta's really starting to be…" Pausing, Goku's youngest struck a Son pose, brow tipped up as gleeful confusion reigned supreme on his face.

"Domesticated…?" Blinking free of his hereditary stupor, he stacked another cup. "Whatever, all I know is that we're sitting there watching this kid's show and I made a comment that makes him laugh--really laugh." Glancing quickly to the side, Goten shrugged. "A real laugh. I thought I was gonna shit my pants. I say the sidekick's pissed because he has no eyes and Vegeta breaks out into for-real laughter." Sighing happily, the younger demi-Saiyan leaned his hip against the counter, forgetting his task as the delightful memory played for him again.

Brushing away the love-struck stars in his eyes, the very clear image of his brother and his brother's apparent lack of understanding came into focus. Blushing furiously, he busied himself with drying the remaining dishes.

"I guess you just had to be there."


"I wish I'd been there…I bet it was real romantic, ne?" Sighing like all girls her age that maintain the ideal romance, Mizu rested her head on the top of her knees, feet moving from side to side with her rocking motion. "I bet he's a great kisser, too…"

Freezing in his flipping in the frying pan, Vegeta slanted both eyes at his daughter, stoically pretending that the blush that crept red along his nose simply didn't exist.

"What makes you say that."

Grinning at her father's sudden interest, the Saiyan shrugged nonchalantly, as though the topic had merely been a passing thought.

"Oh…I don't know," swinging her legs down from the counter she braced her palms against the surface and hunched her shoulders, "he just looks like the type that knows what to do with his mouth." It was difficult for the Saiyan no Ouji to hold a steady hand as his mind and body both thought of the boy and his 'skills'. It had taken Kakarotto more coaxing than any self-respecting Saiyan needed to please their mate in the arts of oral pleasure.

The boy had taken to his dick last night like a diabetic ten-year-old to a fucking stick of carnival candy.

But gentle…with those soft hands caressing…stroking…the nips to his inner thighs a welcome contradiction of sensation that had him arching his back toward the gods and praising them in curses, whimpers, and moans…

"Papa, the food's burning." Swearing hotly in a language she knew only partially, her Saiyan no Papa ripped the flaming skillet from the stove, hand shooting out to click down the heat, the vibrant orange of the burner slowly dulling to a seething red.

"Well…you've got sex on the brain." Hopping from her post, the smaller Saiyan joined her parent, patiently stirring the pot that had come to boil as his daydream had tented his pants.

Vegeta turned, setting the smoking entrée on the table behind them with a grunt.

Mizu glanced behind as she stirred the rice, concern halting her movement at the bowed back and uncertain posture of her father. Dropping the ladle, her attention shifted considerably. Licking her lips in worry, the little girl swallowed, nervous fingers finding each other to twine and twist with her hesitation.

"Papa…?"

"Mizu." Her breath hitched almost painfully. Her father never said her name…it was such a rare occasion she instinctively tried to remember the last time he had done it in that tone.

'He's not coming back, Mizu…'

"Tell me what you think of your father." He didn't move as he spoke, the words murmured and deep. Taking a step forward, Mizu addressed the sensitive subject carefully.

"You mean…Kakarotto-san…?" A nod confirmed her apprehension and she bit her lip. Her Papa never brought the subject up voluntarily…

"Well…" jerking a shrug he couldn't see, the shorter Saiyan spread her hands before hooking her thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans. "He's big and kinda dumb…I think he has the mental capacity of a four year old…" That granted her a grunt, for which she was grateful. More confident, she rounded the table to stand facing her father. "I think he's selfish and I don't care who says he's so great--if he were that good he'd of still been around."

Nodding slowly in agreement, or perhaps merely acknowledging the fact that she had spoken, Vegeta's iron gaze flickered upward.

"And what do you think of the boy?" Sensing the seriousness of the situation in the tone and topic, not to mention the irritated twitch in his tail, Mizu met her prince's obsidian inquiry.

"I think he's a better choice for you, Papa," she declared softly. "And I think he likes you a lot." Breaking contact, the Saiyan no Ouji looked away. Walking quietly forward, she placed her smaller hands on larger ones that curled in indecision. "He's not Otousan, Papa…he's not going to leave us like Kakarotto-san did…" Pulling at her father's hands, she ducked below his arms and occupied the space between them, slim limbs slipping tightly around his slender waist. Laying her head against the flat of his chest, she sighed, inhaling deeply the scent that had comforted her since birth, since the instant she had been placed in his arms after eight hours of agonizing labour.

"I'm yours, Papa," the shirt muffled her words but he heard her without flaw. "Not his," she squeezed the link of her arms for good measure. Closing her dark eyes, she felt the light kiss to her hair, the nuzzle and sigh as the prince relaxed against her, his arms folding around to hold her loosely.

"I like Goten-kun, Papa. And I doubt he's going to fuck you and leave you with a chibi." Narrowing her eyes, she brought her head up sharply, small hands latching onto his ears and forcing eye contact. "You did use a condom, right, Papa?"


"Oniichan…of course we used a condom…" Replacing the last of the dishes to their designated home, Goten snapped out the saturated towel and folded it over the back of a chair. "I'm not that stupid…especially after what happened with Otousan."

Nodding in relief, Gohan slid both hands languidly in his pockets and leaned against the counter.

"I figured you had, I just wanted to make sure this pretty little bubble you've built for yourself doesn't burst prematurely."

"Let me tell ya, 'niichan," that Saiyan smirk returned with a vengeance, the younger Son granting his brother a crooked smile, "there was nothing premature about last night…" It suddenly, unexpectedly, and bipolarly shifted into a sunny Son smile.

"Oi! Videl-san!"

"…Gohan…?" Wrinkling her brow, Videl cocked her head at her husband's fallen figure.

"Oh, he's fine," Goten remarked confidently, waving a hand, "we were just taking about how good Vegeta-san was in bed and he couldn't deal."

"Oh my god, you didn't!" Violet eyes widening to the size of absolute Frisbees, his sister-in-law strode distractedly past a struggling Gohan to retrieve the tea kettle. "Would you like some tea?"

"No, thanks…" she stopped mid-motion and simply lounged across the table that separated them.

"Well, come on, you have to tell me all about it…"

"Videl, I don't think he has time to go into detail--"

"Oh, stop being such a tight ass, Gohan. You like a little dick every now and then too, even if it is plastic."

Bursting into laughter, Goten hoisted himself onto the counter, sitting Indian style as the only woman in the room plopped down into a chair and his beet-red brother picked himself up off the floor.

"Well…he was dropping Mizu-chan off at Capsule Corp yesterday when I just so happened to be there, and I asked him out to dinner."

"Happened…right…" Gohan brushed dirt from his slacks as his wife and sibling spared him not even a glance.

"Yatta! Finally! You've been talking about that for months now…" Videl leaned forward anxiously, hands gesturing encouragement from her perched companion.

"I know…so, we went out to this nice Chinese place and it was quiet, romantic…we talked…" his voice trailed off as a blush splashed across the unsuspecting bridge of his nose.

"And…"

"Well, I got this really heinous piece of chicken stuck in my teeth and ended up using the tea bag as toothfloss."

"Wow…" Stunned, the raven-topped woman merely shook her head at the chance heredity of it all. "And you still managed to get into his bed. Weird."

Nodding vigorously, Goten's wide eyes proclaimed his understanding of her surprise. Even with the immense fool he made of himself, Vegeta had still guided him back to his home…invited him into his bed…

"And then?" Videl prompted, her woman's intuition telling her to drag the information out of his gay ass before Vegeta inserted himself again. This was simply too damn good to let go.

"Well…" Ducking his head bashfully, Goten folded his hands in his lap. "He started making eyes at me over his tea cup, so I bumped my foot into his under the table and the next thing I know we're playing footsies…" Tugging at the hem of his tee, the younger Son boasted a darker hue. "And…he started…tonguing the lip of the mug…" Suddenly Goten was uncomfortably hot, words trailing off as the vision of his Ouji-san and his incredible mouth caught up with the rest of him.

Rolling her light eyes at the hunched position of her brother-in-law, and the awkward, nervous coughing of her husband, Videl finally threw up her hands, demanding their attention.

"So you have a hard on! Big deal!" There was a crash behind her as the man she loved once again fell privy to her bluntness. "Come on, Goten-kun! Tell me more!"

Infused with the woman's confidence and eased by her outgoing attitude, the slighter Son straightened and picked up where he left off.

"Well, after that we both knew what was what and we flew back to his place." Goten adjusted his position, pulling his knees up to his chest and laying both forearms flat across them. "I thought all bets were off when we got there 'cause the girls were there--"

"I thought Panny-chan was home last night…" Videl's sunset eyes threatened to go into mom mode and the younger Son held up a quick hand to stop the inevitability of her over protectiveness.

"She was! But Bra-chan came over and I guess Mizu-chan decided not to stay at Capsule Corp like Vegeta had thought."

"You mean they were being nosey." She ran a slender hand through cropped ebony hair, an 'it's a woman thing' look plastered smugly to her features.

Meeting her gaze and not about to be fucked with, Goten arched an obsidian brow.

"Because everyone's so damn interested in seeing Vegeta-san and myself go at it like rabid effing monkeys…"

"Well, hell…I'd pay to see that…"

"Videl!"

"Chill out, Gohan…" Patting her husband's hand absently, Son Videl shook her head. "You know I love your ass…"

She was good. Damn good.

Goten's brother shrunk before his very eyes, like that one time he and Trunks-kun had gone through Bulma-san's closet and found that really cool watch.

Except this was somehow more impressive. The fact that there was no technology involved, but only the witty words of his merciless wife and the rash of red that terrorized his nose and cheeks.

Yup…Gohan truly did need to chill the hell out…

"So anyway…we get in the house and they're watching TV like it's the most common thing in the whole world that I'm over there at all. And you know, I start wondering if there's like a secret camera or something hidden in my hair that's broadcasting all this shit and if the entire world knows I'm about to get laid…"

"Oh, I bet they had those really shitty looks on their faces too, didn't they?" Videl narrowed her eyes knowingly, shaking her head and making her hair swish attractively around her ears.

"Hell yes! Those little demons, looking at me like their Papa's lured me home to cook me and turn me into stew for their enjoyment." Eyes widening, Goten looked down, chin cradled in the cross of his arms. "But after a few curt words from our resident prince, they scattered and left us the downstairs to watch TV."

"Cartoons…" Gohan muttered, boggled mind straining incoherently to make the physics and probability of it all fit into the formula of normal.

"Yeah, cartoons!" the slighter Son reiterated at his sister-in-law's look of disbelief. "We watched cartoons for awhile…and then…" He coughed, composed…lost it…and stared past the tips of his sneakers.

"You had sex." Videl leaned forward predatorily. No one robbed her of the beauty of an in-home Soap. "I'll buy you a lifetime supply of KY if you give me all of the details."

Gohan's consciousness deposited him soundly on the floor at her feet while Goten fought to keep from falling prey to gravity. The absurdity of the offer was quickly overcome by the reality of exactly how much sex was had the night before, the morning after, not to mention the sexy whisper of more to come when he'd left.

And in only one night, the Saiyan no Ouji and his new body pillow had used over two and a half tubes of the oversized stuff.

"Deal." Sliding off the counter, Goten snagged a chair and sat across from the devil herself.

"How'd he make his move?"

"Well…he wasn't all aggressive like I thought he'd be, you know?"

"Oh, well, I didn't figure he would be."

"N?"

Gesturing airily with her hands, the woman shrugged. "Well, think about it, Goten-kun. He was born with responsibility--prince of Saiyans, destroyer of worlds, husband, father, badass…" She folded her hands in front of her on the table. "He was probably itchin' for someone to come along and take the reigns. That's the only reason I can see in him being with your father at all. He was stronger than him."

"Sugei…" The demi-Saiyan blinked, astounded by the unexpected insight. "I never thought of it like that…"

"Of course not…" She smiled prettily. "You're not a woman."

"But…" He knit his brow and hunched his shoulders as the uncertainty took hold. "Then why is he with me? I'm not nearly as strong as Otousan, I'm not bitchy and bossy like Bulma-san…in fact, I'm pretty unremarkable…"

"If his life's been as complicated as he makes it out to be…maybe that's what he wants now. Seems to me like he's been through a lot of shit. Besides, Mizu-chan likes you, right?"

Goten nodded dumbly.

"Well, there you go. The kid's always the final approval in a single parent relationship like that. If she likes you, you're in."

It was too much. She actually sounded like she knew was she was talking about.

"How do you know all this, Videl-san?"

The female fighter simply smiled. "You really think that blonde bimbo my father was seen with was my mother? Hell no! Mama got seriously injured in a tournament when I was about three. After she died, Papa dated for a while, but never remarried. And I always got the last word in on the chick. If I didn't like her," Videl waved her hand dismissively, "she was out before breakfast."

"Damn, onna! Now I know why you and 'niichan are together."

. "We'll talk about how your brother is in bed another time." Chuckling, she cupped her chin in her palms "Tell me more about suave and sexy, ne?"


"So…he has great hands, a nice ass, and a magnificent cock." Mizu brushed aside the rows of blue on blue, searching for the one presentable dress shirt she knew her father owned. "What else?"

"I never said magnificent." The Saiyan no Ouji strengthened the barrier of arms across chest, nose tipping upward to snub the comment aside.

"Oh, come off it, Papa," the girl chided, reaching high to acquire the pale blue button down and hitching it off the hanger. "Great, magnificent…they're so close they could be related. Think of them as kissing cousins."

Vegeta smirked. Had her back not been turned, the warning signs would have been lit like a neon strip club.

"Ah…like you and Gohan's brat."

Mizu's face burned fire engine red; she squinched her eyes tightly and wrinkled her nose in embarrassment.

"Pan-chan and I…aren't…uh…"

"Hn. Baka. You think just because I'm arrogant I can't see beyond my own fucking nose. Kissing cousins, indeed." The prince sat on the corner of his bed and pulled one leg beneath him. "Are you planning on taking your dinner in there, or will I be seeing you again before the remainder of my hair is bleached grey by you brats."

"Iie, Papa," Mizu replied weakly, draping the shirt carefully over her arm. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to come out of the closet, yet…"

His eyes narrowed slowly and for perhaps the third time in his life, the great Saiyan prince was stricken with an ounce of fear.

"Girl." Vegeta's youngest snapped to attention, though her back remained a blank slate to her father. "Face me."

Swallowing hard, the littlest prince gathered her courage and wrapped it around her like the thick, phantom arms of her Otousan, who, when she had been small, had kept her safe, warm...

Before he left…

"Nani, Papa?" Jerking his head, Vegeta indicated the spot next to him on the bed. Walking slowly, but with dignity, the Saiyan took her place. She knew seriousness when she smelled it, and it didn't taste like her father was kidding around. Kicking her heels idly against the wooden frame, she waited patiently for her prince to speak.

"You are old enough to understand…things…that I have failed to make mention of in the past." Staring straight ahead, he refused to wave his gaze from the darkening window. The topic chilled his flesh, but if the girl did not hear it from him…

"It is obvious that you know what sex is--"

"Oh, Dende-sama…" her blushing face fell heavily into the waiting net of her hands.

"The Namek has nothing to do with this--"

"It's ok, Papa!" Mizu was quick to nod and force a smile through the redness of mortification. "Bulma-basan already had this talk with Bra-chan and me…"

"Tch." The Ouji jerked his head in disregard. "The onna is not Saiyan."

"No…" the word was nasal, almost whining, "but she is a woman." The Saiyan chanced a look through the thick black of her bangs. "Isn't that enough?"

Vegeta no Ouji slanted his dark eyes down to his cowering offspring. A slow, malicious smile spread to the corners of his lips at the realization of her suffering. Teach the brat not to throw his sex life around so carelessly…

"Papa, it's almost six." The prince blinked, all thoughts of conquest drowned in the unfamiliar sensation that shot through his stomach.

Why the fuck was he nervous? What the hell was this…this feeling of insecurity? This uncertain sense of self-worth and question that had him chilled and fevered simultaneously? What in the gods' names…

"It's ok to be nervous, Papa." Mizu smiled broadly as she snapped out the wrinkles in his nice clothes. "I mean, everybody's a little giddy when their boyfriend comes to dinner…"

"Na…boyfriend?!" Ebony eyes widened dramatically, surprise and defense quickly disguised by indignation. "The boy is not my--"

Shaking her head like the know-it-all that raised her, the Saiyan began to pull at her father's training uniform, teeth gently holding the cuff of the button up.

Vegeta sputtered.

Vegeta denied.

Vegeta growled as his top was tugged off his torso and cast to ground.

Vegeta snarled and spat as it was replaced, as expert fingers deftly encased him in the cool fabric, and as a pair of pale slacks were tossed in his face.

Vegeta was still swearing when his daughter left the room, when, with evil, hated gestures he discarded his pants and pulled on the clean sent of newly pressed cotton.

The boy was not his boyfriend.

He was not in love with the boy.

Last night was a one-time fling, a desperate act on his part to get off.

That's all.

It certainly was not--

"Papa's still getting dressed, Goten-niichan. Have a seat and I'll set the table…"

Vegeta froze, belt looped crazily and shirt untucked as that alien feeling assaulted him again. With Kakarotto it had been lust…desire…the undeniable need for something Saiyan.

With Goten it was…

Soft hands gentle on his tail…

A murmur of respect…my ouji…

Sweat slickened and beautiful above him…

Sweet…light moans that sugar coated his name…

Laughter.

Affectionate licks as he lay exhausted against his side…

Intelligence that was more than fleeting…

Vegeta sighed. Vegeta sat. Vegeta stared at the aging Saiyan in the mirror across from him. A Saiyan that should not have lived this long to begin with, let along spawned three children, three lovers…

The Saiyan no Ouji glared at his reflection as he stood and straightened himself. Running a smooth hand through his hair, he turned, fingers flicking the switch as he followed the scent of food and familiarity, the sliver of gold that beckoned him beneath the door.

He hesitated only once, hand curled loosely around the knob. Taking a deep breath, he opened it to the laughter and light of the hallway.

"I must be a fucking idiot."